


Sound of Betrayal

by NightelfsLady



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Can't help falling in love, Crimes & Criminals, FBI Agent Arthur, Gun Violence, Hurt, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Eames, Restraints, Rough Sex, Undercover, Violence, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightelfsLady/pseuds/NightelfsLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur did not know why he acted the way he did, or maybe he did know and just would not let himself admit to the truth, but he knew that against all better judgment his hand pulled out his Glock in a blur of movement, aimed and shot to kill.<br/>He did not miss.<br/>That shot, that kill changed everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound of Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Note 05.09.2017: A few edits here and there ;) Don't ask me why. I will probably find more mistakes next time I look at this :D *sigh*
> 
> Playlist:  
> Mafia 2 Main Theme  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCKs9R1anfI
> 
> Come softly to Me- the Fleetwoods  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvkj4TiSaNQ
> 
> Got my Mojo Working – Muddy Waters  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LC-I4Pqtsfs  
> Come a little bit closer – Jay and the Americans
> 
> I highly recommend listening to the songs while reading, they are the reason this story exists.  
> 

** The Sound of Betrayal **

****

If you asked Arthur Smith in his early teens what he wanted to be when he grew older, he clearly and enthusiastically would’ve said “ _A federal agent_!”. He might have considered changing his mind if someone would have actually bothered telling him what being a federal agent was going to entail for Arthur.

*~*

His career had started off as straight forward and successful as anyone who knew Arthur would have expected it to go. Arthur was ambitious, fresh and young, ready to face life head on. Ariadne used to pick on him for that, a friendly bickering between colleagues and former lovers. Arthur always was the one who won, who got the best results, who had been a straight A-student all the way.

But everything changed when the man with the codename “Forger” came along.

First it was supposed to be a job purely set on observation, testing territory and power of this new criminal in town who seemingly had surfaced out of nothing with a whole network of loyal henchman under his belt.

It all went a little bit off-script when one night, while Arthur was busy nursing his beer in the night club the Forger seemed to own, someone tapped on Arthur’s shoulder, telling him that he will sit with the Forger now. No question there, just a plain statement of fact. For a moment Arthur considered making a bee line straight for the door, this was not how things were supposed to go; instead he just stood up and followed the goon to a more secluded area where the Forger was sitting.

Despite knowing the monster that lurked behind the mask of this perfectly handsome thirty-something English man, Arthur found himself drawn in by the witty and charming way the Forger spoke to him. After an hour of sinuous flirting the Forger leaned closer to whisper an offer about getting out of there and become “better acquainted”. Arthur had declined with his heart pounding in his mouth. That was not how all this was supposed to go down. And also who did the guy take him for, asking him that?! He was not a push-over!

The Forger had looked him in the eyes, searching for something and clearly finding it when he said:

“Well, haven’t you just made a mystery out of yourself, _darling_?”

Arthur would never forget that glint in the other man’s eyes and the fond curl of lush lips around slightly crooked but shiny white teeth.

 

*~*

From then on the plan had changed. Seeing the possibility of a loop hole in The Forger’s wall of secrecy and placing a mole in his ranks led to Arthur become an undercover agent with Ariadne as his handler and connection to the bureau.  He got a new name, too. John Blake, provided with a background story which he knew by heart even if you shook him awake deep in the night and forced him to tell it.

It was hard; a very slow pace of gaining the Forger’s trust and making his way into the network of all those handpicked people around the clever, charming but also cold and cruel criminal the Forger was.

After the unspeakable balancing act between being Arthur, the agent and being John, the criminal; late night meet-ups and check-up calls with Ariadne (who worried about his safety all the time), the Forger suddenly became-

“ _Eames_ , call me Eames, _darling._ ”

The job was supposed to be just that, a job. It got more complicated when Eames started ruffling his hair affectionately when he had done well or asking Arthur, no, _John_ for his opinion.

It was not hard for Arthur to keep in mind what he was supposed to do, but it was hard to not notice certain things after some time.

It did not exactly hurt to look at Eames' handsome features, his tall and muscular build and those little flashes of ink on slightly tanned skinn, hidden under those expensive shirts and suits which the Englishman wore. It was not hard at all to get lost in the deep baritone voicee, hugging every vowel as it flowed past those sinful lips. Up to that point Arthur had never even known he had a thing for the British accent. Eames was alsways his charming self. He could flirt outrageously and playfully in one second and pull the trigger of his Heckler & Koch P200 in the next; but still be elegant and non-flippant about it. If James Bond was real, Eames would be the perfectly mannered arch enemy of his. The only exception would be that Eames might actually kick Bond's ass to the moon and back. There would be no "die another day" with the Forger.

It was scary and hot at the same time and sometimes Arthur wondered if maybe he was just as twisted as Eames was on his bad days.

The fact that Eames was actually very much Arthur’s type made it even harder to pay attention to what Eames was saying to him when they were in Eames’ office one summer day and discussing something that was clearly important to the older man but not so much to Arthur since his eyes kept drifting from Eames’ lips, to the ink showing through the unbuttoned blue shirt the older man wore that day and back to those hands, gesturing wildly over some kind of map. Eames looked like a kid at times like this; the way he animatedly waved his hands around in wild gestures, a smile cracking onto his lips and his storm grey eyes shining with utter delight. 

It was hard to listen to Eames at times like this, because Arthur was so distracted by the way Eames became someone different, someone he only let Arthur see when no one else was there. Someone whose eyes crinkled mischievously and who laughed wholeheartedly, as if there was no pain and cruelty in the world. Whenever they were alone like that day, Arthur found it impossible to see Eames and not feel a fuzzy warmth building in his stomach, bubbling up to make the corners of his mouth twitch and make Arthur give in to smile back at the older man.

It was then when Eames stopped talking mid-sentence, body stilling as his eyes locked on Arthur, smile fading a little but still evident on those lips. Arthur became aware all of a sudden just how close he was standing to the older man; how he was unable to look away, shrug it off and keep going. It was as if the room around them had taken in a breath, stolen the air from them and kept them locked in this moment in which none of them dared to move or even blink.

Eames’ eyes lost their playful shimmer and made room for something fragile and wondering. He did not move a muscle, yet suddenly Arthur felt as if they were drawn to each other, gazes never straying and locked in cautious _what if_ s.

It wasn’t the first time they were close to each other, but it was the first time they both felt it with an intensity that was palpable in the air.

What surprised Arthur more than anything was that when this thing, whatever it was, pulled him closer to Eames finally, near enough to close the minimal gap between their lips; it was Eames who drew back and out of reach suddenly. Arthur’s heart had stuttered in disbelief as he swayed slightly and jerked back in shock as the realization hit him. He had been dead- set on _kissing_ Eames…

Eames had pulled back with a rueful smile on his lips and an expression in his eyes that spoke of uncertainty and curiosity at the same time.

The spell was completely broken by Cobb walking in on them with a confused look on his face as he glanced back and forth between them, clearly assessing the elephant in the room but shooting it very, very dead with a nonchalant: “I guess I can consider myself lucky that you both are still wearing your clothes.”

Eames took it in stride, shrugging the moment off and announcing that Cobb should in fact consider himself lucky if he actually ever _were_ to see them naked, since there was nothing more breathtaking and beautiful than that in the entire sodding universe. Arthur was too embarrassed _(“A cute color on you,_ _darling.”)_ to look at either one of them or say anything for the rest of the day.

That moment between him and Eames, however, kept replaying in front of Arthur’s eyes, bothering him far longer than just for a day.

~+~

The elephant in the room was not really dead, in fact it stayed where it had first appeared for quite some time until one night Arthur accompanied Eames, Cobb and a few others to a warehouse at the docks where a  rather big business meeting was about to go down. It was not the first time Eames had allowed Arthur to come along, but this time the Forger asked him to “ _stay close”_ , which was another way of saying: _I have Dom at my right and you at my left side, this better tell you something about my trust in you, darling._

Arthur had his hand clutched around his Glock in the pocket of his jacket as he stood next to Eames, breathing through the tense atmosphere gradually building in the warehouse as the other party arrived. Eames was supposed to meet Saito here, a man who was just as dangerous and just as wanted by the police, FBI, CIA and whatnot. He was a 40-something Japanese business man who really did not take **no** for an answer. From what Cobb had told him that guy had his fingers in pretty much everything that made money these days and so it was really no surprise that Saito and Eames met at that point; it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Arthur would have laughed at the way Saito and Eames started the meeting with some kind of Western stare-off, but since there were actually firearms involved he found it wiser not to do that.

Eames looked downright scary at times like this. Even though Eames was only a little bit taller than Arthur, the younger man always felt like Eames grew a few inches and turned into something darker and fiercer than anything he had ever seen. Eames’ eyes always turned cold and pierced everything in the way of their calmly assessing gaze. The older man’s muscular body and broad stance screamed dominance and _don’t bloody fuck with me_. One would have to be blind and astoundingly stupid to not be intimidated by this man.

What surprised Arthur was how stupid Saito actually seemed to be.

The moment the goods had been exchanged and both sides should have been mutually happy with their gain, everything turned to shit when suddenly Saito lifted his arm, holding a gun and pointing it at Eames with a sick smile on his face.

Arthur did not know why he acted the way he did, or maybe he did know and just would not let himself admit to the truth, but he knew that against all better judgment his hand pulled out his Glock in a blur of movement, aimed and shot to kill.

He did not miss.

That shot, that kill changed everything.

It changed everything, because Arthur had been faster to shoot Saito (before said man was able to shoot Eames) than Dominic Cobb, who only had his hand on his gun when Saito already dropped to the ground in a puddle of his own angrily gushing blood.

Arthur had killed his first man and he did not even shake, he stared as Saito’s henchmen dropped dead one by one, killed by others from the Forger’s team. Shouting and screaming accompanied the sounds of killing for a few moments, and then there was just general ruckus about the fact that Saito had turned on them and had been fucking killed for it. Having killed Saito was going to lead to some kind of gangster fallout, but Arthur could only stare, arm still outstretched, the muzzle of his gun still pointed towards the already dead man on the ground.

Slowly he became aware of the hand on his neck, holding on with gentle pressure and Eames’ voice in his ear, firmly calling him by a name Arthur did not recognize as his own for a moment.

“It’s alright, John, it is okay. You can let go now. C’mon, love, look at me.” Eames’ voice was soft then as Arthur finally remembered how to move his body with a shaky exhale and how to look at Eames.

It should not have felt gratifying to have Eames pull Arthur close by the hand on his neck and let the young man press himself against the warm and firm body close to him as Cobb clapped a hand on Arthur’s right shoulder for good measure and then wandered off.

There was nothing good about killing a person; it was Arthur’s job to hunt those who did.

Yet as Eames hugged him close, muttering words of soft comfort into the younger man’s hair, Arthur found himself sighing in relief thinking: _He did not get him. Eames is alive, he is alive._

_~+~_

Wine was consumed in outrageous proportions that night after they returned to Eames’ mansion. Arthur first had trouble shaking off the events in the warehouse, but slowly the alcohol dulled his mind enough to tune out those haunting thoughts and made him focus on the company of Cobb and Eames as they were lounging in the living room on the huge leather couch. Arthur did not remember who started to lift the heavy mood with terrible jokes and puns (probably Eames), but then they laughed and drank, until suddenly Cobb was gone and Arthur found himself busy straddling Eames’ lap on the huge leather couch in the living room without any clue how he had ended up there and also not really complaining.

For a moment they had just looked at each other, so close and touching but not moving anymore.

Then they shifted towards each other, moving closer and closer…

Then their lips said how they feared for each other’s lives back there, how shooting a man can feel so wrong and so right at the same time, how badly Arthur had wanted to kiss Eames at that time in the office a few weeks ago, how Eames wanted to do that too but did not actually think John might want him in that way. At some point their lips stopped telling each other things, though.

Instead Arthur was kissing Eames and Eames kissed him back, slow and steady.

There was no uncertainty this time.

 “I knew you’d come around eventually, _darling_.” Eames had whispered, meaning to rile Arthur up, but sounding oddly affectionate at the same time.

*~*

The next meeting with Ariadne turned out to be a little strained. Arthur could not really look her in the eyes when they were sitting at a small table in a Starbucks. The new information he had gathered about Eames had just passed another level up the ladder of importance to this case. Ariadne seemed to notice his discomfort, but did not address it. It was that look though, in her eyes. She just knew him way to well, Arthur guessed.

“How did you get all this, Arthur? This is amazing; if you keep this up we can totally bring the whole network around the Forger crashing down! And Saito is dead?! I mean, Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?!” Ariadne said all fired up, eyes shining excitedly, but Arthur just shrugged, looking out of the window, frowning.

` _I killed him_ `, Arthur thought, ` _I killed him because he would have killed Eames. `_

“This is awesome, Arthur, you really are the best! Whatever it is you do, keep it up!”

Arthur did just that.

*~*

Eames may have been one of the most dangerous criminals then, so it pulled Arthur’s heart just right out of his chest when one night, as they were laying on the leather couch watching TV, Eames kissed him deeply and lingering and said: “ I love you, John, you know that?”

Arthur was frozen for a second, as Eames wrapped him in his arms, snuggling up against Arthur’s back.

Eames might have been a criminal with sociopathic tendencies, but that was not all that was to him…there was also _this_ Eames right there; kissing him, calling him _darling_ and _love_. So the fact that Eames loved him and told him so was not really that surprising to Arthur, but it was the name that did it.

John,…I love you, **John**.

Everything turned upside down in that moment; lines blurring, identities clashing with devastating consequences. And so when Arthur turned in Eames’ arms to kiss him and whisper “ _I love you, too_.” he was not sure if it was John Blake or Arthur Smith speaking.

 

*~*

Arthur had sworn himself that he would not fall in love with Eames, but after Eames’ confession it had become an impossible thing to do. Eames let Arthur see him now, no lies and just Eames. It was as if the criminal did not exist whenever they were alone, no other pair of eyes on them to see just how bright, caring and tender Eames could be. It actually made Arthur smile whenever he thought about how he was the only one who ever got to see the man like this.

Even though Eames might be cast for the role of a hedonist most of the time, it was actually a surprise to see the gentleman qualities in him. They had kissed many times by then (hot and searing, slow and tender, passionate and biting, you name it), but in fact Eames had never even tried to take it all a step further.  It was surprising because Arthur still remembered their very first meeting in the club. Eames’ intention had been pretty obvious then and if Arthur ever wondered whether Eames even found him attractive and wanted to sleep with him, he thought back to that moment and gave himself a jerky nod.

But still, this left Arthur sitting in Eames’ office on the mahogany table a few weeks after Eames’ confession. He was alone in there and looked around the room, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip.

Arthur did not even know what he wanted there, he was waiting for Eames to come in and then…what? He tried to sort out his thoughts but found himself unable to do so since they just kept spinning around in his head. Annoyed with himself he pulled his tie loose and ran his hands through his short hair, huffing out an exasperated breath.

What the hell was he doing? He could not help but feel like a little schoolgirl waiting in front of the locker of that guy she likes.

Seriously, Eames had reduced him to a little lovesick teenager? Go figure.

And then his thoughts drifted to Eames at once.

His storm grey eyes which never really lost their track on Arthur whenever he was in the room, making him feel hot and cold all over.

Eames soft, dark blond and short hair, which only Arthur was allowed to comb through with his fingers and draw soft pleased humming sounds from the other man’s lips.

Those lips, hiding the slightly crooked but white teeth.

That smile, only for Arthur.

Those lips saying ` _darling_ ` in all those different intonations and meanings… Arthur could read all of them by now.

Eames had tattoos. Arthur had found out when he had barged in on Eames training in his studio a few months ago. Eames had been half naked and sweating, lifting weights and stretching. He had congratulated himself on his self-restraint since it was incredibly hard not to jump the man then and there. Instead he had just mumbled something about Cobb wanting to speak to Eames, blushing crimson red.  He saw Eames smirking at him and then nothing but stumbled out of the room in aroused panic. He had heard Eames goodhearted laughter through the door and could not help but smile too (even if a bit shakily).

“John?”

Eames’ voice ripped Arthur out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw the older man stand in the door, shirt tucked out of his trousers, hair ruffled and looking kind of tired. Eames looked at Arthur questioningly for a moment, then he smiled, closed the door behind him and came closer.

“What is it, love?  My chair not good enough for your fair bum, it has to be my table now?” he chuckled, amused.

Arthur smiled; leave it to Eames to make that sentence sound like seven kinds of sexy and ridiculous at the same time. But Arthur was no saint, so he replied:

“Well, your lap was not available, Eames. What was I supposed to do?”

Eames smirked, then, he came to a stop in front of Arthur, stepping between his opening legs and standing so close now that Arthur could smell Eames’ aftershave. He inhaled it greedily and leaned closer, burying his face in Eames’ chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Strong arms closed around Arthur, pulled him closer until Eames seemed to be all around him, keeping Arthur safe. Lips were a gentle pressure on top of Arthur’s head and he snuggled even deeper into Eames’ embrace; effectively smothering that tiny voice in his head which screamed at him all the time: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!

“You’re really giving me the impression that you missed me, love.” Eames’ voice was deep and rumbling, vibrating against Arthur’s chest. The younger man’s arms came up and encircled Eames’ muscular form now, caressing in slow and lazy strokes.

“I cannot deny that, Mr. Eames.” Arthur chuckled and continued a little breathless when he felt Eames’ lips on his temple, “What are you going to do about it?”

Eames stilled at that and Arthur froze with him, wondering if he had said something wrong. The older man only breathed for a few long moments, his hot puffs of air making Arthur shiver as they came in contact with his skin.

After a while Eames slowly widened the distance between them, but only so far that he could look into Arthur’s eyes without going cross-eyed. Arthur tried to pull him closer in attempt to kiss Eames again, but he did not let him. For a few panicked moments Arthur was sure that he had said something very bad.

Suddenly this had become kind of humiliating for Arthur. Eames still did not say anything, just looked at him with an expression that he just could not read and it made Arthur nervous.

For some reason fight turned into flight right then and with a jerky movement he pulled himself away from Eames, hopped off the table with the grace of an elephant and started to walk towards the door to the hallway and passing the one to Eames’ bedroom.

“Never mind. Sorry.” he stammered, heart hammering in his chest. If Eames did not want to do that then Arthur would not force it, but it was just so damn frustrating!

Suddenly a hand wrapped around his wrist and before he could do so much as blink Arthur found himself pressed against the wall next to the door to Eames’ bedroom, caged in by the man’s strong arms and the hot weight of a hard body against his.

“Wha-“was all Arthur was able to utter when Eames sealed his lips over Arthur’s with sure and steady pressure.

For all Eames had not said before, this kiss seemed to say ` _sorry I kept you waiting_ `, because Eames’ kiss had something desperate in it, urging Arthur to join in and make him understand.

And join in Arthur did, having something to say too. He grasped Eames’ face between his shaking hands and pressed himself closer against Eames’ looming, hot body. A relieved sigh escaped the man’s lips, then he slowly eased up and let his forehead sink against Arthur’s. For a moment they stood there, clutching each other, breathing fast and unsteady until Eames looked into Arthur’s eyes again, a smile now tugging at his full lips.

“It seems like you are under the impression I do not want you, darling.” Eames’ voice was husky and low in a way Arthur had never heard it before. Arthur felt heat creep up his spine and he shivered when Eames’ hand caressed his cheek gently.

“How will you redeem yourself, Mr. Eames?” It was meant to sound cocky, but the words escaped Arthur’s lips in heated gasps.

Eames smiled, letting his hand travel from Arthur’s cheek to his lips then down his throat, leaving a burning trail of fire on the young man’s skin along the way.

“Oh, I will show you _just how_ , love.” Eames purred as he slid on of his hands under Arthur’s shirt, skin meeting skin in scorching contact, leaving the younger man gasping.

“I intend to redeem myself very…. _thoroughly.”_

~+~

Redeeming, in Eames’ book, involved a bed and being very naked.

It seemed as if Eames and Arthur had been reading the same book.

` _Redeeming himself thoroughly_ ` meant that Arthur found himself naked on Eames’ huge bed, lying on his back with his legs hooked over Eames’ shoulders as the older man kissed him, pressed two slick fingers into Arthur and worked him open without any hurry. Arthur could not help the desperate sounds escaping his lips right into Eames’ mouth. Whenever Eames moved even a tiny bit his erection also pressed against Arthur’s which was trapped between their bodies.

Arthur had lost his sense of time. He could not remember how long Eames had been ` _redeeming himself`_ already, but Arthur was still coherent enough to notice that he did not particularly care.

Arthur would not start caring as long as Eames did not stop doing _that_ to him.

Eames possessively sucked and bit marks into Arthur’s skin making him keen and gasp. The young man writhed as much as he could to get more of that delicious friction but found himself soon trapped by Eames’ strong grip and the weight of that muscular, hot and inked body.

Eames’ fingers suddenly found their rhythm, drawing a low groan from Arthur as he moved his body in tune with the sensation. Again Eames’ lips met Arthur’s, smothering the noises and making him hot all over when another finger dove into him. He moaned loudly, straining in Eames’ grasp and tried to push himself onto those fingers. Eames did not let him though, he kept holding Arthur still, kept kissing him and cherished him with every touch. Later Arthur would probably find this embarrassing, but right then he did not care as long as that feeling would not stop. 

“Let me take care of you, darling, hm?” Eames murmured next to Arthur’s ear as he ran his hand into the younger man’s hair. Arthur arched away from the mattress and against Eames as much as he could when Eames’ fingers tightened in his hair, tilting his head back so that he could attack Arthur’s throat with his lips and teeth. At the same time he rutted his cock against Arthur’s, never stopping his ministrations with his other hand.

And suddenly it was not enough. Arthur was floating, hovering on the edge, but it just was not enough, he needed more…he needed-

“Eames,… _please_!” he really hoped that it had not sounded _that_ desperate, but Eames did not seem to mind. He stopped all he was doing for a short moment to look into Arthur’s eyes, gaze soft and gentle.

“Are you sure, darling?”

Arthur’s stomach fluttered nervously, but then he smiled and pulled Eames down again, kissing him instead of saying ` **YES YES YES YES YES!!!`**

Eames slid Arthur’s long legs off his shoulders then, caressing them gently. Then he kissed Arthur again, while one of his hands reached down to guide himself into Arthur with a slow and steady glide.

Arthur gasped and wrapped his calves around Eames’ waist, dragging him closer, urging him to go deeper.

The feeling of fullness, being stretched by something hot and hard left Arthur moaning into Eames’ ear as the older man let himself fall forward, then stemmed himself up by his elbows next to Arthur’s head. Arthur rocked against Eames, slowly; testing out the new sensation and enjoying the way this made Eames gasp and close his eyes as pleasure overrode him.

“John...” Eames whispered, but in Arthur’s mind he had said his real name. He imagined it all the time; Eames whispering ` _Arthur…Arthur. `_

Then they started moving, slow at first but steadily picking up speed as Eames dove deeper and deeper into Arthur, making the younger man see stars.

It did not take long for both of them to start moaning heated nonsense, each other’s names or in Arthur’s case _`harder.faster.more.EAMES`_ .

They moved as one as they stumbled over the edge. Arthur arched up against Eames who caught him in his arms as he felt the wave of fire course through his body. When he looked up into Eames’ eyes he noticed that his vision was starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges. Those grey eyes were regarding him as if he was the most precious thing in the entire world and Arthur was sure that his eyes were telling Eames the same.

“I love you, Charles.” Arthur whispered, his speech slurred by exhaustion, then his eyes had drifted shut.

Eames had held him close until Arthur finally regained conscience after a while.

“You called me by my name…” was the first thing Eames said when Arthur open his eyes again. Eames had moved them a bit, because now Arthur was sprawled across Eames’ chest. A lazy smile crawled onto Arthur’s lips as he turned his head a bit to look up at Eames who watched him with something like awe.

“I did…`s that okay?” he murmured against Eames’ breast bone, his tone a little worried. For some reason Eames’ real name was a fucking huge deal for the man, so of course he would notice Arthur using it.

Eames watched Arthur carefully for a moment, then he slowly started to smile; and it might sound cheesy but to Arthur it was just like the sunrise; lazy and gradually but steadily becoming brighter with each new moment.

“More than, love.” The answer was gentle and he felt safe and warm in Eames’ arms, as he was coaxed into a more upright position.

They kissed long and unhurried until Eames tugged Arthur snugly into his chest and whispered:

“Move in with me, John.”

“You bet.”  Arthur had muttered and earned himself a playful jab in the ribs by Eames who kissed him again with a bright smile on his lips.

Arthur had not fallen in love with Eames.

No. Definitely not.

 

~+~

 

Things came crashing down on a Friday afternoon in November 2012, more than one year into the operation “Forger”.

It started out as normal as a day in a life with the Forger you can expect to be. A meeting with Ariadne was scheduled at ten in the morning, even though Arthur really did not know what Ariadne wanted to talk about being this close to the finish line. They were supposed to meet at the nearby park Arthur was always jogging in.  Having started this day in their bedroom with lazy morning sex had resulted in Arthur being a little late, since he had to wield off a seemingly insatiable Eames and a positively bugging Cobb who wanted join him for a jog.

When Arthur arrived at their meeting point Ariadne was seated on a bench near the lake, gaze fixed onto something that only she seemed to see. He called her, smiling and sat down next to her. Ariadne looked at him then, a strange expression in her eyes, as Arthur started giving her new information about Eames that he had just heard this morning. But Ariadne did not really seem to listen; instead she kept staring at a point on Arthur neck, expression hardening suddenly. Arthur touched that spot absentmindedly, understanding then what it was that had distracted Ariadne.

 A hickey. Dark red, new and placed so that everyone could see the mark Eames had left behind. Arthur blushed at the memory, clearing his throat and looking away…everywhere, only to not see the look on Ariadne’s face.

“So, you’re really fucking him, aren’t you?” She broke the silence, making Arthur do a double take on her.

“I- we….yes, I mean,…what?!” Arthur frowned, then looked away feeling guilty all over again. How often had he sat and thought about this himself with a bitter smile on his face.

A moment of silence, except for little children screaming on the playground just a few yards away, then Ariadne softly informed him: “I should report this.”

Arthur looked back at her, conflict and annoyance clearly visible on his face, eyes burning with growing frustration.

“I…look, I did not mean for this to- it just…we just-“

“What?!” Ariadne snapped suddenly, glaring at him, eyes hard and accusing “You two just stumbled and he impaled you with his cock?! What are you, his slut?!”

Arthur gaped, then after a moment he said through clenched teeth: “You don’t know anything.”

Ariadne flinched at the venom in his voice, slumping a little bit, but reaching out for Arthur at the same time, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Arthur, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to- I am sorry, okay?” They just looked at each other for a moment, then Arthur nodded tensely. Ariadne seemed relieved, then she folded her, compared to Eames’ tiny hand with Arthur’s, caressing the soft skin.

“It’s just…you seem so different. It’s like you’re barely _you_ anymore, Arthur. “She paused for a moment, looking at their entwined hands, sighing.

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little bit too… _involved_ in this? You used to be more prof-“

Arthur ripped his hand away from her grip now, standing up, furious.

“What?! Professional?! Is that it?”

Ariadne stood up as well, reaching for Arthur again, but he evaded her grip on his shoulder.

“Have you forgotten how this is going to end, Arthur? He’s a criminal for god’s sake,…we’ll take him down. And you will return to being-“

Arthur turned away, swallowing dryly, willing himself not to hear those words.

“I know who he is. I know who I am. And I know who **we** _were_ , Ariadne.” He looked up to see the hurt crashing her forced calm expression. Arthur’s gaze softened, he stepped closer to Ariadne and pulled her into a tight hug, which she pressed herself into desperately.

“I know you want me to be safe, I know that. But I want you safe, too. You’re important to me…so please, let’s not meet again until this is over?”

When he drew back, he could see her angrily wipe away the tears that started to gather in her eyes, after a while, she nodded, standing up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Please, be careful, Arthur.”

*~*

When Arthur returned to the mansion, he told himself that he had shaken off the feelings brought to the surface by his meeting with Ariadne, but he was distracted enough to not notice that Cobb was nowhere to be seen.

He went through the lobby, trying to set himself straight and get a grip once and for all. He could do this, he would do his job, walk out of this unharmed. He would…he _would_!

Except that there was this little voice in his head whispering:

_Is that it? You can betray him like that?_

Arthur snorted bitterly, his fists clenching in anger.

As if he had not been betraying Eames all along anyway.

And suddenly there was that moment when it dawned on him that he should leave, _now._

He could get out of here now, vanish without ever fully betraying Eames, without actually gathering that last crucial bit of information that they needed to convict Eames and this whole network he had established around him.

In silent awe he stood there, his thoughts racing one another.

If he would go now, vanish, not even saying goodbye, Eames would forget that John Blake ever existed. Ariadne would be safe and they would not be able to get their hands on Eames. Arthur could-

He did not dare take another breath and closed his eyes, clenching his teeth and feeling his heart rebel, his stomach turning at the thought of leaving; never seeing Eames again..

And then he turned around.

He walked right back the way he came, his steps speeding up slowly, just like the beating of his heart did, pulling him back towards Eames. But he had to leave, now!

“ _Darling_ , there you are….where are you running off to?”

Eames was standing at the top of the stairs to the first floor of the mansion, looking at Arthur with a playful smile on his full lips and a quirked eyebrow highlighted by that scar that Arthur had kissed so many times.

For a moment he just stood there, Eames at the top of the stairs, the door on the other side just in front of Arthur forming a horrible juxtaposition. No thoughts, just static crackling in Arthur’s ears.

_He could not stay….and he could not leave._

Eames’ smile faded a little, he did not say anything for a moment, both of them stilling, just watching the other.

And then Eames smile turned into a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously as he turned around and threw a nonchalant “You coming, love?” over his shoulder and then he disappeared into his office.

Arthur stood there, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He stared at the spot Eames had just stood before, suddenly noticing that his hand was clutched tightly around his cell phone; thumb hovering over the call-button. When had he taken out his phone? He checked the number.

 **505 000** … the code. It meant “ **SOS. ABORT** ”.

He closed his eyes, hearing Eames upstairs, rummaging through his CD collection of American 50s (humming some Muse tune while at it just because he could; because it was just so _Eames)_. And sure enough, a few seconds later _Got my Mojo Working_ blared through the speakers.

A smile sneaked its way onto Arthur’s lips, then he let out a deep breath he did not know he had been holding, snapped his phone shut and turned to walk to the stairs.

Who was he kidding? He could never leave Eames.

*~*

Arthur stepped into the room and leaned against the doorframe, smiling when he saw Eames sitting at his huge office desk made of mahogany, reading some report while humming along to the Muddy Waters. His index finger was stroking across his full bottom lip absentmindedly. He had not yet noticed Arthur and he could see how Eames frowned at whatever he read, clearly not liking it one bit as his forehead creased in a frown.

“Something wrong?” Arthur asked in curiosity, ripping Eames’ attention away from the paper in his hand. He looked up at Arthur, expression unreadable for a moment, then he leaned back in his chair, smiling at Arthur and waving him closer.

“Just something Cobb gave me. Come here, will you, pet?” he purred and waited until Arthur had closed the door behind him and was in reaching distance to pull him right on top of him so that Arthur was straddling him in a flash.

“Easy there, tiger.” Arthur chuckled as he let one of his hands play with Eames’ red silk tie while the other hand found purchase against one of Eames’ huge and muscular shoulders.

Eames grinned and let his hand cup Arthur’s ass thoroughly and press him tight against his body as the other hand drew his lover’s head closer to his lips.

“Mm, just what should I do with you, I wonder...” Eames’ tone was a little odd, so Arthur pressed his awakening erection against Eames’ one, eliciting a satisfactory growl from the older man.

“You used to know exactly what to _do_ with me,” Arthur whispered against Eames’ lips.

“If I remember correctly, you even _did_ that this morning.” He pulled in Eames by his tie and smashed their lips together in a heated kiss, muffling Eames’ delighted chuckle. Arthur thought he heard Eames grumble something like “ _Devious minx_ ” sometime, but he just kept going, smiling into the kiss.

Eames devoured Arthur’s mouth, possessive and hot, clutching his smaller body tight and ground up against him, starting to undress him without any hurry.

Once Arthur was seated on Eames, kiss-swollen lips, bare-chested and breathless, the older man made him stand up and turned him around suddenly, one hand around his waist and the other around Arthur’s throat.

The younger man mewled as he felt the firm pressure against his windpipe and the hot looming presence of Eames against the cleft of Arthur’s ass cheeks. The edge of the desk pressed uncomfortably against Arthur’s erection, but he did not really mind.

Eames nipped at his collarbone, biting then licking and Arthur could do nothing but scramble for Eames behind him, moaning unbashfully. Then Eames worked the belt on Arthur’s pants loose, stripping him off those and his boxers in a swift movement that left Arthur gasping.

“You trust me, don’t you, darling?” Eames asked, breath hot against Arthur’s neck.

The younger man pressed back against Eames to meet his hips, grinding back into them, humming pleased at the delicious friction it caused.

“Yes… _yes_! Eames, I… _AH_ ,” Arthur stuttered and threw his head back against Eames’ shoulder as the older man wrapped one hand around Arthur’s erection, stroking it in a steady but slow and torturous rhythm, making Arthur keen and buck into that sensation, eyes closing in bliss.

Eames smiled against Arthur’s neck, then suddenly he pushed Arthur forward and _down_ on the desk, ass jutting into the air and his body crumbling all the papers on the desk beneath him.

“ _Hands_.” Eames commanded, slapping Arthur’s ass once, _hard_.

“Ah!” Arthur gasped, rode out the slap against the desk and let his hands fall back, presenting them to Eames behind his back, moaning, when he heard Eames pulling his own tie loose from his collar with a whizzing sound. And suddenly the silk wrapped around his crossed wrists at the small of his back; tight _...so tight_. Eames fastened the tie quickly, then he stepped back a little, seemingly admiring the view presented to him.

“God, look at you, love. All spread out and waiting…”

Arthur shifted a bit, trying to find a good stance when he heard Eames work on his own belt buckle and pulling his pants down a little.

“Would you hurry, I haven’t got all d-AAA!” the last bit of Arthur’s taunt was abruptly cut off when suddenly Eames started pushing his rock hard cock into him, clutching his hips in a bruising grip and sinking and _sinking_ until he was fully seated in Arthur, groaning loudly at that.

Arthur keened through clenched teeth, trying to get away from the too sudden feeling of pain and fullness, but Eames did not give him an inch.

“Come on, you can take it,…can’t you? We were at it for hours this morning…” Eames whispered hotly against Arthur’s ear.

And instead of letting Arthur come up with an answer he started to pull out until only the head of his cock was still in Arthur, making the young man writhe and struggle against his tight hold and the tie around his wrists.

Eames and Arthur have had their fair share of sex to that point and a little roughness was nothing new, but why then did this suddenly start feeling different for Arthur?

He screamed when Eames rammed back in with one feral thrust, pulling out again swiftly, only to plow right back in again. Arthur took it, biting his lips; trying to wriggle out of Eames’ grip, trying to push against Eames’ still clothed chest with his bound arms, but Eames would not let him. He was way too heavy, hard muscles unyielding against Arthur’s attempts to free himself.

Arthur was quite literally stuck between an immovable object and something _hard_.

He gasped again when Eames slammed home, lips biting Arthur’s neck, marking him.

“Eames, I… _ah_! Please…slow down, PLEA-MMF” Arthur yelped between thrusts and desperately needed intakes of breath as Eames pounded into him (the force of it rattling the heavy desk and everything on it) and muffled Arthur’s cries by suddenly covering his mouth with his big hand. Eames lowered himself against Arthur’s back, smothering every desperate noise attempting to break out under his palm across the younger man’s mouth, breathing hot puffs of air against Arthur’s sweat-shiny neck as he rutted against the smaller frame writhing under him in a beautiful arch.

“You know, the first time I saw you, I could not take my eyes off of you…so beautiful.” Eames said while thrusting in and out of Arthur. The younger man keened against the hand over his lips as his lover hit something in him that made him see stars, but Eames kept pounding, leaving Arthur wondering how the man was even coherent enough to talk like that.

The music changed to Jay and the Americans in the background, a strange contrast to the constant _SLAP SLAP SLAP_ of skin hitting skin.

“And then you turned me down. _Me_! I could not believe it.” Eames chuckled, if not a little bitterly as he one-handedly drew Arthur back against his cock when he had slid up too far up on the desk to make the perfect angle for Eames’ thrusts. Arthur could do nothing but gasp and moan against Eames’ hand and just take what he gave him.

“I thought I’d never see you again, but you came back…saved my arse a couple of times, actually.” The sound of Eames’ voice; gruff and sexy washed over Arthur as he came closer and closer to tumbling over the edge.

But then Eames slowed down, breathing heavily now, stilling completely to release Arthur’s lips from the hand covering them, grab his jaw and kiss him, not caring about the awkward and uncomfortable position.

For a moment Arthur thought he saw hurt in Eames’ expression. Eames’ eyes were closed, he was breathing in little pained gasps and furrowed his brows, but then it was gone when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on Arthur’s neck, sighing heavily.

“I loved you even before the moment you first called me by my name, John.”

Arthur swallowed, trying to kiss Eames again, but the older man began to thrust anew, drawing out a deep moan out of Arthur who felt only a few thrusts away from coming hard all over Eames’ mahogany desk. He felt his body tightening in the right places, muscles clenching as Eames pounded into him, always hitting that spot now, making him scream.

“You love me, too, don’t you _, darling_?” Eames cooed, slowing down his thrusts once more, sounding desperate, taking Arthur’s cock into his hand, stroking in time with his slow thrusts.

Arthur moaned long and loud, pushing back into Eames, heart nearly bursting out of his chest by the truth spilling from his lips in a rush of air.

“ _Yesss_ …” Eames thrust in deep and lingering, thumb stroking over the slit of Arthur cock, which was dripping with pre-come.

“Yes, _what_?” Eames snarled, let his other hand leave Arthur’s by now bruised hip to pinch one nipple between his fingers, causing Arthur to yelp and jerk from the sensory overload.

“I love you, _Charles_!” Arthur yelled and Eames moaned when he heard his given name fall from Arthur’s lips, picking up speed, thrusting three more times when Arthur reared up, screaming long and hoarse as his orgasm ripped through his body, evidence spilling all over the notes and utensils on the desk. Eames held him tight through it, thrusting a few more times, then he groaned out in bliss, filling Arthur up with his cum.

Arthur zoned out a bit, tuning out the upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Then he felt Eames stroke his hair and kiss his back until he sighed suddenly and reached next to Arthur’s head to pick something up from the table and held it so that Arthur could see it.

“John, tell me, love, who might _this_ be?” Eames asked, voice rough from sex, but something else too. Arthur tried blinking through this after-glow haze until he saw the picture bright and clear, all at once realizing who the person on the picture was.

**Ariadne.**

Apparently his shock must have shown, if only for a moment. It was enough for Eames’ fingers and lips to leave his body, but his cock was still very much connected with Arthur.

“So, you know her, I take it?”

Arthur’s heart pounded in his ears, his head still fuzzy. He tried to dislodge himself from Eames, wanted to look at him, but he was stopped by a hand around his neck pressing his head down against the flat surface of the desk ... hard.

“No!” Arthur gritted out through his teeth, now that he had collected himself enough to work through this.

He had no idea how Eames had gotten this picture when all this time they had been so very careful. It was bad, but not unfixable, Arthur decided.

“Jesus, what has gotten into you, Eames?” he snapped, trying again to break out of the grip Eames had on him.

This position started to feel very uncomfortable, he was getting cold. The papers on the desk clung to his sweaty body, the desk’s edge dug into his hips and the way Eames was crushing him against it wasn’t exactly perfect either. He felt exposed and not just because he was still naked.

He could fix this; this would work out just fine!

Eames seemed to ponder his answer for a moment, then his grip slowly eased up. He dropped the photo, sighed and pulled out of Arthur making them both gasp and wince.

“Alright, then…,” Arthur felt himself being carefully picked up from the desk and turned around in Eames’ arms.

The expression he was confronted with was not as bad as Arthur had expected.

Eames was careful, always so suspicious, but Arthur had seen him more alert than this in the year he had been working on this case to really worry now. _He could fix this_!

Eames eyes, though, told a different story, leaving Arthur to wonder for a moment. Finally he had gathered the courage to speak, his arms flexing against the soreness and struggling against the tie.

“Eames, what is it? I don’t know that woman!” he tried his best to look worried for the right reason then, willing his heart to slow down.

Eames just watched him for a moment, calm and assessing…then…

“Well, then I guess we have to do this another way.” He said firmly, his mouth shutting into a tight line.

“What are you talking about?” asked Arthur incredulously and then tried to loosen the tie around his wrists again. “Can you untie me now, please? I would like to get _dressed_.”

If Eames noticed that little slip, the tiny nervous crack in his voice, he did not show it. Instead he pulled Arthur close in a crushing embrace, leaving the young man breathless.

He could only feel the soft fabric of Eames’ suit against his naked chest with every breath he took and then Eames kissed him again, all soft and passionate at the same time.

The song on the player changed to the Fleetwood’s “ _Come softly to Me_ ” now, the calm and lulling tune contrasting the wild beating of Arthur’s heart, the panic building in his chest, desperate to be let out. But he pressed closer to Eames’ warm, strong body; breathing in his scent and closing his eyes as Eames swayed them back and forth a little bit to the music.

_It was all going to be okay._

Eames drew back a bit, caressing his face, taking him in as if trying to memorize every detail of him. Then he looked over Arthur’s shoulder to the door when it opened suddenly.

“Cobb.”

Arthur watched Eames quizzically and turned his head towards the door as well to greet Cobb, ( _Not even caring that he was still naked as a newborn since Cobb had caught them in flagrante delicto more than once_ ), only to find that he was not faced with him but…. **Ariadne.**

“ _What_?” Sheer horror was clear to be seen on both his and Ariadne’s face.

Dom had her in his grip. She had a cut lip, a lump on her forehead and was bruised where skin was revealed by her torn suit.

Eames’ fingers tightened around Arthur painfully now, making him flinch.

“Did you know Dom followed you today, John?”

Dread settled like ice in Arthur’s stomach as he forced himself to keep looking at Ariadne, trying to communicate with her, saying it was all going to be alright. _They would be safe, they_ -

“Oh. Really? Why would you do that, Dom?” Arthur managed to blurt out, looking at Cobb now.

Cold eyes, stained with distrust stared him down, knocking some air out of Arthur’s lungs.

Ariadne made a choking noise in the back of her throat, tears gathering in her eyes as she gasped out:

“He knows, Arthur. I’m so sorry!” Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, then he felt Eames grip his jaw and force his head around to look at him.

He was met with the brutal reality. Stormy grey eyes, betrayed and burning with a cold fury bore themselves into Arthur’s shock-widened brown ones.

A flash of recognition, dread and bitter acceptance lit Eames’ eyes for a moment, then his face shut down, eyes going blank.

“Yes, I know,… ** _Arthur_**.”

The grip on his jaw turned bruising when Eames spat out his real name for the first time, making Arthur flinch.

Of all the times Arthur had imagined his name falling from Eames’ lips, he never would have expected it to happen like this. It was not supposed to hurt.

His mind was blank then, body merely reacting to stimuli; his eyes seeing nothing but Eames, who stared right back at him.

Ariadne broke the silence with a sob.

“I’m so sorry! I should never have called you today! I-“she stuttered desperately.

He could not look away and did not even dare to breathe. He felt numb and pinned by Eames’ gaze.

But the deep, rough voice ripped him out of his stupor.

“Do you remember what we do with little spies, _Arthur_?”

Eames’ tone matched someone talking about the weather now; even though it sounded forced. The way Eames was using his real name made Arthur flinch again as if being struck. It was not supposed to be like this!

His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to save this.

When Arthur did not answer, Eames spoke again; never breaking eye-contact with him.

“Cobb, would you enlighten _Arthur_ , please?” he asked in a patient manner, his eyes remaining hard and cold, breaking down Arthur piece by piece.

Cobb cleared his throat audibly, then he rasped: “We shoot them and burn their bodies.”

“Ah, yes!” Eames smiled coldly, seemingly recalling a fond memory of his were it not for the hard edge or the hurt in his eyes.

“I guess it can’t be helped then...”

And then he turned Arthur around, arms going round his waist, holding him in a twisted version of a lover’s embrace.

A terrible realization hit Arthur then, when both he and Ariadne watched Cobb pull out his gun, clicking back the safety and oh so slowly raising it to her head.

_Arthur could **not** fix this. He could **not** fix this!!_

The fight returned into Arthur, as he started to struggle against Eames’ grip, thrashing wildly now, heart beating erratically in his chest.

“No! _No_!! PLEASE, EAMES, DON’T!” he screamed and fought against Eames, who held him in a merciless grip, not reacting to Arthur’s plea in any way.

Ariadne struggled now as well, sheer panic in her eyes.

“ _No, please...”_ tears were running down her pale and bruised cheeks, then the muzzle of the gun tipped against her temple. She froze, horror filled eyes locking with Arthur’s.

“Arthur...” she whispered his name like it was her lifeline, then Eames’ chin came to rest on Arthur’s shoulder, mouth just by his ear.

 _Come softly, darling_ repeated gently through the speakers, again and again.

“Do you know what betrayal sounds like, _Arthur?_ ” it was spoken cruelly soft, piercing Arthur’s heart.

** *~***

He could _see_ Cobb’s finger crook around the trigger, but he did not _hear_ the sound of the gun as it went off.

He could hear someone scream, loud and anguished, voice breaking and cracking.

It was _him_ , screaming his soul out, crumbling in Eames’ unrelenting embrace, hot tears streaming down over Arthur’s face as his insides wrenched painfully and did not cease their agonizing torture.

He could not stop screaming….for Ariadne. He was screaming in excruciating pain, until his voice started to give out and his vision became blurred.

Sounds mixed. A lulling tune in the background, fading in and out inconsistently.

_I need, need you so much  
Wanna feel your warm warm touch_

He felt like he was under water, his ears rushing with the sound of the current.

Then he heard something else. Soft little noises and murmuring at his ear.

His vision became a little clearer for a moment, Ariadne’s face flashing in front of his eyes.  A bleeding gaping hole in her temple and her eyes wide, staring at Arthur with horror in them.

 

A shoulder in a suit, his face was pressed against it. Someone was carrying him, cradling him close to their chest.

The noises were whispered in his hair. _Words_. Soft and calming words. But Arthur could not understand them.

He stared up at that shoulder in wonder, trying to reach for it, but his body did not obey him, so he looked up, coming face to face with-

“Eames” a name was whispered softly, only a breath.

“ _Darling_.” A response, familiar and warm.

Ariadne reappeared before his eyes, bloody gaping hole in her temple…staring at him.

 _“I did not hear the bang, Eames_.” was said in a wondering tone, disbelieving.

Grey eyes looked down at Arthur, lips in a tight line.

The warmth left his body for a moment. He was laid down on something soft now.

A hand caressed his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheeks.

Lips pressed on his forehead and Arthur started to drift away slowly, eyes staring at the white ceiling above him.

He was mouthing the words:

**_I did not hear the bang._ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> I never really intended to post this story, at all. It really grew on me and I was so afraid to actually post this, because I put so much work into this and now I just hope you enjoyed this story. It is one of my first attempts to write a longer, more complex story.
> 
> Please, leave some feedback :)


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